The anxiety seeping into my heart is like a cloud of gas. Its mist crawls under the door and begins to lap at my lungs. Slowly its nauseating stench reaches my head. Then its claustrophobic touch clouds my eyes. My chest is stretched by the reach of its fumes. One moment, one flicker of light and I fear an explosion. Day after day the valve is turned looser. My head begins to spin as it’s vapours intensify. Each moment I am awake I am drawn closer to eruption. I cower on my own, desperately attempting to stem the leak. But it’s too late, it has to come out somehow. Lord, it would just be easier if it slowly diffused rather than exploded in a reign of hysteria.
My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death have fallen on me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.
I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
I would flee far away and stay in the desert;
I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm.”
I will sustain you, my child. I will give you peace when there is none. You will never fall from my grace. I am here, I will always be here. I will hold onto you when your grip is no longer strong. I will give you joy when sadness has overshadowed you. I will be with you. I will always be with you. I am enough.